The dandelion in the spring
by MockingJayFlyingFree
Summary: "The air between us seems to vibrate. "What exactly are you doing, Katniss?" I don't answer, because I don't know what the answer to his question is, so instead I reach out one hand and trace his spine with a finger, from his neck down to his boxers. Then my hand falls away, down to the bed." Yes, it's another Everlark first time fic. I've done it before, but this time it's canon.
1. Chapter 1

**_I've already written a fic about Katniss and Peeta's first time – Broken. However, I think I fell for the temptation to make it slightly unrealistic, in particular I think I made Peeta a bit too well endowed, so I hurt Katniss a bit too much. ;) Poor thing. I read in someone's first time fic that the author's grandmother (or something) had said that if it hurts, you're doing it wrong, and I have to agree. Sooo I'll try to make up for it. Plus, at the end of the day, they are two teenagers, both inexperienced, and it's likely to be a bit awkward and confusing the first time, isn't it? I've read a __lot__ of HG fan fiction by now, and how likely is it really that they'll both have earth-shattering simultaneous orgasms the first time? Hands up everyone who experienced that themselves?_**

**_Anyone?_**

**_I thought so…It's a bit of a learning process, after all. It's often a longer learning process than in this fic, too, I guess. _**

**_Plus Broken wasn't canon – I introduced a strongly sexual component of the abuse Peeta suffered when he was a prisoner in the Capitol. In addition, on the final page of the last chapter of Mockingjay (pre-epilogue), it seemed like their first time happened somewhat suddenly or unexpectedly, whereas in Broken, it was something was building up for a long time._**

**_So here's a second take at their first time – this time I'll try to stay true to the final chapter of Mockingjay, and I'll try to be as realistic as possible (I hope). Don't worry, I haven't abandoned the sequel to Broken, it will still be finished, but I need to write this story first! This story has nothing to do with Broken or the sequel whatsoever. It stands alone._**

**_The quotes from Mockingjay are in italics. I've changed some of them very slightly, from the present tense to the past tense, to fit into my story. For reference, the original quote is:_**

_Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. _

_So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"_

___I tell him, "Real."_

**_I think I'll use it all, with the possible exception of one (or part of one) sentence. _**

**_I love reviews, please tell me what you think! And of course, the HG characters aren't mine. I just love them so much that I borrow them for a little while. Thank you, Suzanne Collins, for writing books that are so inspiring! And can I just say that I saw the second trailer for Catching Fire today, and I CAN'T WAIT! It looks amazing!_**

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So what makes tonight different from all the other nights Peeta and I have shared a bed?

Perhaps it was the breeze through the open window of his bedroom. Perhaps it was the way the earth had felt earlier today, when I was hunting bare feet for the first time of the year. I had felt so alive, somehow connected to the earth, to the forest I love so much. Perhaps it was the dandelions he had plucked, bright yellow in the vase on the table as we had dinner. Only Peeta could possibly find dandelions beautiful enough to be used as a decoration.

Where others see weeds, he sees beauty.

It couldn't have been the way we kissed, because we've kissed so many times before. Including in this bed. But somehow, a fire was lit tonight, a fire that this bed hasn't seen before.

* * *

_Peeta and I grew back together. _After our return to District 12, we moved into our old houses in the Victor's Village. Attempting to achieve something resembling normalcy was a long and difficult road for all of us. Peeta, Haymitch and I were all so destroyed and broken by the Capitol, in so many ways.

Peeta and I started spending time together. He'd leave me bread on my doorstep. I'd leave him a squirrel or a wild turkey. Then one day, as I was leaving him a turkey and then tried to sneak away as usual, he opened the door and asked me if I'd eat it with him. I did. We'd share more meals together, until us having dinner together had become the norm, not the exception.

We discovered that sometimes, my being there could shorten his episodes. Not always, and I quickly discovered during which episodes it was better if I just left him alone. Sometimes, during particularly vicious episodes, I even had to lock the door behind me. But most times, he'd hold on to me like I was his lifebuoy. On one such night, I fell asleep in his bed together with him after helping him through an episode. When we woke up the next morning, we realized that neither of us had had any nightmares - a rare occurrence.

So we spent the nights together, helping each other keep the nightmares at bay. Soon I had more or less moved into his house. I don't know why he didn't move into mine – perhaps because Peeta has always been better at creating a home than I have? Creating happy memories. My house was filled by the presence of my mother, of Prim, of Snow. Peeta's house was filled by the smell of flowers and bread and soap. My few personal belongings found their way into Peeta's house, one by one. First my toothbrush, then some underwear in a spare drawer, then my bow. It wasn't something we talked about. I started thinking about the bed not as his bed, but as our bed. _There were still moments when he clutched the back of a chair and hung on until the flashbacks are over. I woke screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms were there to comfort me, _as mine would comfort him.

Sometimes I would feel his arousal - often early in the morning, somewhat less frequently when he held me at night. It would always embarrass him, and me, too. He tried once to tell me how men's bodies worked, that it was just a physical reaction he couldn't really stop, that it didn't mean anything. I didn't really want to talk about it, finding ignoring it easier than talking. Sometimes he'd go to the bathroom and stay there for quite some time after he'd realized I'd felt his erection against my body. When he returned, he'd look guilty, refusing to meet my eyes.

_And eventually his lips _would descend on mine, and we discovered another way to help us through sleepless nights, another way to fend off the darkness_. _ It happened quite suddenly the first time we kissed. It was chaste, cool, loving, calming. After that night, we would kiss more often than not, but never would the fire be lit in me, like it had been that night on the beach in the Quarter Quell.

Never until tonight.

_**Oh yes, I know I'm a tease! LOL There are approximately two more chapters coming up, and if you review, I just might post them faster. ;) Anyway, please let me know what you think! This first chapter is only introductory, the real action is coming up in the next chapter. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone! I really appreciate them! **_

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So what is different tonight from all those other nights we have spent together in this bed? All I know is that tonight, when Peeta kisses me before we are supposed to go to sleep, my skin warm after a long day outside in the late spring sun, the kiss is different. I don't know how or why, but suddenly my tongue slips into his mouth, meeting his tongue. He gasps in surprise, his fingers on my back digging into my short and thin nightgown, and the skin underneath it, for just a second. Then he relaxes, opening his mouth, allowing me access. Our tongues duel, explore, taste. He moves one hand up to my chin, cupping it, taking control of the kiss.

My hands are on his chest, he's sleeping only in his boxers like he always does, touching the labyrinth of smooth skin and faded scars that is his body – and mine. My right index finger touches one of his nipples, strokes it, I don't know what's getting over me, but I can't resist. He groans into my mouth, and his hips buck into mine. I think it's an involuntary reaction to my touch, and through his boxers I can feel that there are more involuntary actions going on in his body. His body stiffens when he realizes that I've felt his erection, and he breaks the kiss. He looks into my eyes for a split second, then closes them. He's blushing.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs.

He turns around and starts to get out of bed, but I stop him. Not with my hands, but with something much stronger – my words. "Don't."

He stops, his foot and his prosthetic side by side on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed, turned away from me. "What do you mean?" His voice is strained.

"Don't go."

"But I…"

A flame is burning in my belly. A hunger. I don't know what gives me the courage.

"Don't go. Stay with me."

I know I've said the magical words, the words he can't resist. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and turns his head to meet my eyes. "Always," he whispers. His eyes are dark, his pupils huge. He seems to be studying my face, and he looks… surprised? I wonder what he sees. If my pupils are as large as his.

I think they are.

The air between us seems to vibrate. "What exactly are you doing, Katniss?"

I don't answer, because I don't know what the answer to his question is, so instead I reach out one hand and trace his spine with a finger, from his neck down to his boxers. Then my hand falls away, down to the bed.

"I have to…" He gets out of bed this time, starts walking towards the bathroom. All I can see is his back. His strong, muscular legs. As his hand touches the door handle, I stop him again.

"Hold me, Peeta."

"I can't hold you right now," he says, without looking at me. I know he won't - can't - turn around. "Not the way you want to be held."

"How do you know what I want?" This new Katniss, woman on fire, answers. I'm getting out of bed, too, coming up behind him. I rest both my palms on his back, feeling the strong bundles of muscle tense underneath his skin. His fists are opening and closing repeatedly.

His skin is burning hot underneath my palms, and this fuels the fire inside me further. There is no mistaking it now. I don't quite know what it is, or how to handle it, but I know I can't let it get away again. On the beach, in addition to being interrupted by Finnick, we were on camera, surrounded by other people. Now, there is no Finnick, no cameras. We are alone. What would have happened on that beach if Finnick hadn't woken up? It's a thought I've never dared to think. Surely something we've never dared to talk about.

Finally, he turns around, facing me. His face is flushed, he looks embarrassed. He looks down at the floor, his fists closed hard now.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I want," I whisper. I just know that I… want."

"Katniss…" His voice is strained. I finally dare to look down, my eyes leaving his face and resting on his boxers. His cock is straining against the soft fabric of his boxers, which isn't surprising, but it's still not a sight I'm used to actually seeing. He's always hid this from me when it has occurred in the past. I can't stop the sharp intake of breath, more like a hiss, when I see him. He flinches as if I've hit him.

The fire is spreading throughout my body.

I'm not good with words, so I do what I do best: I simply do. Act. I take his hand in mine, opening his clenched fist, our fingers intertwining almost automatically. I give his arm a slight tug, and lead him back to bed. I lie down, and to my relief he follows me. We just lie there for a while, not touching, just looking at each other. When he leans towards me, capturing my lips in another kiss, I know that it was important that he initiated this second contact. This time, our lips part almost right away, allowing our tongues to meet. This kind of kissing seems to invite a more intimate kind of contact than our previous kisses did. I feel his hardness against my thigh, he's not trying to hide his arousal from me anymore.

Our lips part, just barely, still hovering so close. "Can I… touch you?" he whispers, and the fingers on my collarbone, close to my breast, tells me what he wants to touch. I nod, unable to speak. He tries to slip a hand through the neckline of my nightgown, but finds it's not a very good angle, and hesitatingly glides a hand underneath the hem instead, holding my eyes as he does it, silently asking for my permission. His fingers bypass my panties, but briefly touch my flat stomach as his hand goes up towards my breasts. I flinch, gasping. Then his hand is there, feathery light, touching the swell underneath one nipple. I can't keep back a moan, echoing his. As his fingers reach my nipple, my entire body is on fire.

Suddenly, the fabric between us seems constricting, a hindrance, too hot, I just need it gone. I quickly slip my nightgown over my head, helped by Peeta once he understands what I'm doing, and my upper body is bare for him. He's never seen me like this, and on the few occasions when I thought about him looking at my body, I'd worry about my scars, feeling self-conscious. But I know now that my scars are mirrored in his, and that they bind us together.

As he takes in my body, devouring me with his eyes, time seems to stand still. "Oh Katniss, you're so beautiful," he says, and I can't help but smile, relieved and grateful. Both his hands return to my breasts now, and he seems eager to discover them, with his fingertips and, after a while, with his tongue, tasting and licking. My body bucks against his when he does. I don't understand the way my body reacts, so I try not to think, just feel. I go on instinct. When I hunt, I can't think too much. In the moment just before the arrow leaves my bow, when I do that last adjustment of my aim, make the final decision to shoot, I have to leave conscious thought behind and allow my body to be taken over by a primal instinct, guiding my actions. This is the same. No thinking, just feeling. Going on instinct.

When he finally comes back up to my face after a sweet eternity of playing with my breasts, I see my fire reflected in his eyes. "No barriers," I whisper.

"No barriers," he whispers back.

He removes his boxers, somewhat hesitantly, as I remove my panties. Now we are naked together in this bed, our bed, for the first time, and the intensity of the moment brings tears to my eyes. His cock is burning against my belly. He must misunderstand my tears, because he worriedly brushes them away, murmuring in my ear that nothing has to happen, he just loves feeling me close, and once again apologizes for the weakness of his body.

"Don't ever apologize to me," I say, "not about this."

Our hands seem to move on their own accord. I wonder if it's the fire which gives me the courage, or if it's just curiosity, but I can't keep my hands off him, I need to discover what he feels like without his constricting boxer shorts. As my fingers touch his cock, I'm amazed by the hardness and the silky softness, together, such an unlikely combination. He moans in my ear, his body shuddering, and suddenly I feel like the most powerful person in the world. I trace him, getting to know him, this secret place he's never showed me before. His hardness. His exquisitely tender, soft and heavy balls. "Show me what to do," I whisper into his ear, my voice is husky, it must be the fire talking. Without words, his hands close over mine, and he shows me the pace, the rhythm, the movements. I'm excited by his eager reactions to my touch, and I feel a gush of wetness between my legs. As I hesitatingly close my lips around his head, he suddenly sits up, panting.

"Don't. You need to… stop," he gasps.

I'm taken aback. "Did I… do something wrong?" I ask, ashamed and worried that I went too far.

He kisses me, deeply and hungrily. "You're doing everything right," he says after tearing away from my mouth again. "Too right. I don't want to… come… quite yet."

I blush. I think I know what he's talking about. "Oh." I don't know what to say. My instincts guide my movements, but not my words.

"Allow me?" He asks, and this time I know what he's talking about. I nod, my throat dry. And then his fingers start their exploration of me. He finds soft, slippery skin, acutely sensitive nerve endings, a wetness which reveals I'm already ready for him. "You're so wet," he groans, and I'd be embarrassed if he hadn't been so obviously turned on by it. He seems to be searching for something, his face shows his concentration. When my body suddenly jerks and twists underneath him, the fire soaring, he smiles at me, apparently he found what he was looking for. The attention he gives to that spot is almost too much. My body is overflowing with sensation, I'm writhing and moaning, I'm chasing something, but I don't quite know what it is. He slips one finger inside me, and I can't stop a scream from leaving my lips. I don't think I'm able to say anything coherent anymore, I'm down to pure, ancient instinct now. But still I'm confused, my body overloaded by stimuli.

Peeta is shifting, his body covering mine. His body is shaking, I don't know if it's from nervousness or from being so turned on or perhaps both. One of his hands is between my legs, finding my secret opening again, guiding the head of his cock towards it, but holding still there. "Are you sure?" he says, and his voice is surprisingly clear considering his arousal. I can tell that this question is incredibly important to him, it's requiring so much concentration to voice it in his current state. I, on the other hand, am unable to answer in any other way than by kissing him hungrily. I guess the groan entering his throat is answer enough. With one thrust, he enters me halfway. I make a strange, whimpering sound, I can only hear it as if from afar, tearing my mouth away from his. It hurts, but not terribly, it's more of an uncomfortable, stretching feeling, but above all it's unfamiliar. New. Peeta pauses slightly, then thrusts again, burying himself all the way inside me, to the hilt. This time, I can't hold back the scream, a mixture of pain, surprise, welcoming and arousal. Peeta must think it's purely pain, and kisses my ear, apologizing profusely for hurting me, all the while his body is shaking.

My nervous system is overloaded. First his fingers were teasing actions and feelings I never knew I had from my body, and now his cock, filling a void that has never been filled before. The fire from before seems to have died down a bit, my brain being too busy trying to figure out the new feelings he's stirring inside me to fuel the fire further. I squirm a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position underneath him, but then he yelps: "Don't move! Don'tmovedon'tmovedon'tmove!" I try to keep absolutely still, not quite sure what will happen if I do move, but understanding I shouldn't. He relaxes slightly, and whispers in my ear: "You're so amazing, Katniss… this feels amazing, you're so hot and wet and tight."

His words hit a secret chord inside me, my body involuntarily clenches around him. He whimpers, his eyes look almost helpless, and then his hips move against me, twice, three thrusts, they seem uncoordinated, he groans loudly, his body stiffens, and then something feels wet between my legs. He slumps down on top of my body, his nose buried in my hair. He's panting. "I'm sorry," he manages to say. "I didn't want it to end this… quickly."

I just hold him tight, my hands stroking the strong muscles of his back. "It's okay," I whisper. I feel strangely satisfied, although my fire hasn't died down completely. I've heard about this happening, hushed whispers among the girls in school, a lifetime ago. Of boys not being able to hold back, the girls would snicker and laugh when they told their girlfriends about it afterwards. But in a way I'm almost happy that even after all we've been through, we're actually normal enough to do **this** in an almost normal way the first time.

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_**One more chapter to go! There is more to come for them both. ;) I hope you liked it, please review.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Okay, so here's the third and final chapter! Enjoy! :) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited and liked my little fic! I haven't gotten around to answering everyone who's written reviews, but I've read every single one and I really appreciate that you're taking the time to tell me what you think. Thank you so much!**_

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After a while, he starts to get heavy. My body feels sore, and the insides of my thighs are quivering, his weight too much for me to handle for very long now that he's just lying there, heavily, on top of me. I squirm slightly underneath him, and he understands what I mean. He slips out of me, something sticky and warm follows him, and lies down next to me. One hand is stretched out across my belly, the other curled around my head. His breath is hot on my neck, approaching a more normal frequency. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "I wanted to last longer, but you were just… Too much. When you… Squeezed around me like that, I… I've just wanted you for so long."

I kiss him to tell him everything is okay, better than okay, lovingly and tenderly now that the fire has died down somewhat.

He seems to fall asleep after a while, but my body and mind are in too much turmoil to even think about sleeping. The area between my thighs feels uncomfortably messy, so I get out of bed, carefully so as not to wake him. When I stand up, something is running out of me, down the inside of my thighs. I look down, shocked at first, but then I feel stupid for not expecting it.

Gravity.

I don't know if it's from him or me, though. In the privacy of the bathroom, there is some blood on the washcloth, but not much, most of it is his semen. It's unfamiliar and smells weird, and I'm suddenly grateful that Haymitch insisted that I took a contraceptive shot when I started sleeping over with Peeta after our return to District 12. I guess he knew that this would happen, sooner or later, even if we didn't know it ourselves. As our mentor he's still looking out for us, in his own way.

When I return to the bed, cleaned up, I expect Peeta to be asleep, but instead I find him wide awake. I blush as he looks at me, completely naked. I slip under the sheets, and he puts his arms around me, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer, smiling.

He looks a bit insecure now. "Did you…" he asks, and his voice trails off.

"Did I what?" I don't understand what he means.

"Did you… come?"

I'm still a bit confused. "You mean if I… climaxed?" I blush.

He nods. "Yes." He pauses. "I guess if I have to ask that question, it means you didn't, right? I'm sorry, I was so selfish, I really wanted to make it good for you, but I… got too carried away."

I shrug. "Don't worry about it. It's okay. I think it's quite common for girls not to… come… the first time they have, you know…" I can't even bring myself to say the word "sex".

"Will you show me?"

"Show you what?" I feel as if he's talking another language.

"Show me how to make you come." I blush deeply, biting my lower lip, looking down. He must've misunderstood why I'm embarrassed. "I just want to learn how to please you, Katniss. You were so amazing earlier tonight - the way you came apart in my arms, your skin was on fire… I want to learn how to give you as much pleasure as you give me. Please teach me."

I clear my throat. "Actually, I… don't know."

"You mean you've never…?"

I shake my head. "No, I've never… come."

"But surely you must have… touched yourself?" Being a man, I guess not doing that is impossible for him to understand.

I've never felt smaller. "No. I shared a bed with Prim, and… Besides, I was always caught up in a battle for survival. One way or another. Before the Games it was the hunger, and then… After… There was too much on my mind. I never… Considered that… This would ever happen to me. With anyone."

He seems to consider this for a while, lifting my chin with a finger, making me meet his eyes. They seem so dark. "Will you trust me with your body, Katniss?"

"Haven't I already?" My breath catches.

"Yes, but there is nothing more intimate than having an orgasm together with another person. It rips away all the layers around your heart, leaving you bare." He kisses me lightly. "I should know, I just did." He smiles. "Will you trust me to… find out together with you? If you're not too tired and sore."

I consider his question. Do I jump off that cliff? Remembering the fire inside me that died down as he entered me, I suddenly find myself nodding. He looks relieved, and hugs me, holds me tight. One hand goes up to my head, caressing my hair, the other holding my waist, pressing my small and soft body against his larger and harder body. "Earlier tonight, you seemed to really like it when I… touched you like this," he whispers, as his hand leaves my waist, goes across my belly, lower still, slipping between my legs. Without thinking, I part my thighs to allow him access. He finds that secret spot again, almost immediately now that he knows where it is, and I bite down on his shoulder as he does to keep myself from screaming. If it hurts, he doesn't show it. The fire is there again, it's all-consuming. It hadn't been extinguished, it was only hidden in the ashes.

"I love seeing your passion, Katniss," he whispers in my ear, and his voice is husky. He is hard again against my thigh. But this time, there is no rush to get inside me. He seems intent on giving _me_ pleasure now, because when I try to reach for his cock, he gently removes my trembling hands. "Please, I want this time to be for you," he whispers, and I somehow find it in me to nod, even though his index finger has slipped inside me, finding a spot in there on the front wall that literally makes me see stars for a second. I have long since given up any pretense of control. The sounds that are torn from my throat are alien to me, a distant part of my brain finds it incredible that they even come from my mouth. Once again, I'm chasing that something I don't really know what is. My body is twisting, moving on its own accord as his fingers explore, tease, rub. Then he surprises me by sitting up, removing his hands from my body completely. I open my eyes, they have until now been closed tightly shut.

"Please don't stop," I find myself begging, but as I gave up control, I also gave up any illusion of pride, and I'm not ashamed to be begging, not this time.

"I'd like to try something," he says. "Trust me?" I just nod, breathlessly. Then he moves down in the bed, crouching between my thighs, and my breath catches as I realize what he's going to do. His tongue touches me, and suddenly I can't help but wonder what he must be tasting down there, what I taste like.

He seems to be reading my mind. "You taste wonderful, Katniss," he says, his voice is so dark and husky it almost doesn't sound like him. "You taste of fire and passion." He cocks an eyebrow. "And of myself and iron." I know he must be talking about the remains of our previous lovemaking, and the thought is oddly arousing. Then I stop thinking as his mouth descends on me again, and I'm reduced to being totally controlled by his tongue and his fingertips. The fire is roaring now. Perhaps it would've scared me if I hadn't experienced it earlier tonight, and seen it as well, reflected in Peeta's eyes. I know this fire is nothing to be scared of or ashamed of. This hunger is of a completely different kind.

Again, my body is overwhelmed by stimuli, my nervous system is in turmoil, it is all I can do to hang on. His every touch or flicker with his tongue seems to propel me further on towards something I just can't reach. But whatever I do, however hard I try to concentrate on reaching that mysterious something that I know I must reach, it seems to slip between my fingers. I cry out in frustration.

Peeta moves up from between my legs, his lips and chin are moist, and I know it's from me. I catch his lips with mine, kissing him furiously as I lead one of his hands down between my legs again. I know now what he means – I taste myself on his lips, as well as him and that faint taste of iron.

The intensity of my feelings are somewhat lower now that only his hand is working on my sex, and it might be just what I need, the intensity of the assault on my body somewhat lower - because instantly, the fire soars even higher. "Let yourself go, Katniss. Come for me," he groans in my ear, and that's enough to send me spinning out over the edge, finally reaching that something I was chasing, but was perhaps scared of finding.

As I come down from the wave of fire I distantly feel that Peeta is entering me again, and this time, there is no pain, only a slight soreness, and my body knows what is happening. It is no longer a shock or a completely alien feeling, but something I have experienced before. This time, his moving inside me stirs something new in me - I can't quite grasp what it is, but I love feeling him moving inside me, he feels so huge, but still my body can accomodate him. And his passion is taking my breath away, I'm getting turned on again just by hearing his moans, when he's panting while he's telling me how much he loves me. I can tell that he's trying to prolong it, and he does last longer this time, but he's so close. His eyes are tightly shut, his nails digging into my shoulders, and I watch in awe as he comes. I know that there is more there, I can feel the potential for something amazing in the way he moves in me. Given time and practice, perhaps we'll come together. But for now, I'm perfectly happy with the way we are right now.

He gently slips out of me and lies down next to me. He showers my face with tiny kisses, like butterflies. I want to thank him, but instinctively know that no thank you's are necessary. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and I'm sure mine are as well. I feel desperately tired, yet so alive. My head is spinning from the raging cocktail of hormones that has been in control of my body. "Wow," he whispers.

"I know." I can't help but grin. "That was… really something. I didn't know my body could… Do that."

"You had it in you, all along," he answers, looking me deeply in the eyes. "Girl on fire."

And_ on this night that I felt that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, _as I'm about to fall asleep in his arms, _I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. _

_So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"_

_I tell him, "Real."_

We fall asleep, and tonight, there is no reason to try to fight off the darkness together. The darkness is already gone.


End file.
